


Host of Light

by Fearthefuzzybear



Category: Mianite - Fandom
Genre: Crack, Gen, Mianitian Isles - Freeform, doesn't makes sense but that's ok, time stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fearthefuzzybear/pseuds/Fearthefuzzybear
Summary: salvation can only come in the form of total submission.  he can make everything balanced, as long as they follow him obediently.
Relationships: Karl handforth & Tom cassell, Tom Cassell & Jordan Maron
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Host of Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [transvav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transvav/gifts).



salvation can only come in the form of total submission. he can make everything balanced, as long as they follow him obediently he will never have to worry about the safety of his lady, the lady he has sworn himself to protecting despite her careless treatment and the way she sends him out on her every wish and whim. he keeps her safe, away from everything. this version of balance is twisted, both ends of the scale far from the center and piled far too high. the slightest touch can upset it all.

he destroys all the ancient texts relating to his little lady. if nobody comes seeking her, she will never be found, right? he continues this little game for an eternity, keeping order and chaos in equal intensity, never letting them intermingle. it's easy. until one day, three mortals appear, but they're not quite mortal, are they. the zombie pledges himself to Jordan, an action that tickles something in him, something familiar. then someone in a red coat washes up on shore.

this newcomer is curious, too curious. he seeks to upset the perfect balance he has crafted to keep the world together and maintained for so long. he seeks something nobody has looked for in a long time. he seeks ianite.

he fortifies the security around his little muse, his 'Lady', he thinks mockingly. he couldn't trust her to keep the balance before, he cannot trust her now. besides, he has grown to fit the role. power crackles beneath his skin, he can do things he's never dreamed of doing before. He sends his agents of balance, whose names he's forgotten long ago, to hinder these ‘Heroes’ in their mission to rescue his charge.

they succeed. he can feel his grip on the fabric of this world unravel beneath his fingers and for the first time in a long time, he is afraid. He calls his agents close to him, he cannot protect them if they are not within grasp at all times. he will keep them safe. he will fix this.

he is in his home in the nether, allowing sparks to dance around his fingers as he thinks. They've always fascinated him, reminding him of a distant past. what was his name then?

"Captain." the very air around him vibrates with the deep seductive voice of temptation. the only element he could not control in his desire for balance. 

"Darkness." he greets curtly. The room dims, despite being illuminated from all angles by lava. 

"Youve been working very hard," it purrs "too bad they don't see it"

he strikes a deal with the devil. he doesn't regret it. He holds his agents, his precious charges close to him and tells them to run, to leave him here and to never look back. he tells them he will catch up. They obey. they always did. they always do. and if everything goes well, they never will again.

his hair stands on end, fire courses through his veins. he has never felt more powerful. "but of course," the darkness rumbles from the back of his mind, "it's  _ my _ power."

the zombie. the zombie was the one to deal the final blow. in some sick sense of irony, it made sense. now, as he bleeds out, black ichor spilling over the grass. not the worst place to die. he relishes in the searing pain of the silent wrath of the entity buried in the darkness recesses of his mind.

_ you die with me, _ he thinks,  _ you die with me.  _

"I thought better of you," the darkness sneers, " i know where your heart lies, little one. and where will you be when they need you most?"

+

the agents feel hollow and empty with no sense of direction. they stick together in a way that feels natural, throwing light jabs at each other and laughing about it to distract them from their pain. they pick out names for each other, one wants something rogueish and simple. Tom, the other decides, and they agree. the unnamed agent wants a name a bit more sturdy. Karl? Tom suggests, and 'Karl' nods. it feels right.

they miss their lord, sure, but they've started depending on each other more. they almost feel okay. Tom has started leaving their home to go on long adventures, returning with exotic items and souvenirs. Karl goes on smaller adventures, collecting resources and building up a cozy little cottage up from nothing. Tom takes over one day and sends Karl off to find seeds for their farm. he returns to find the cottage transformed into something beautiful, surrounded with flowers.

Tom comes home to find Karl sitting by the window, staring up at the stars with a steaming cup of tea in his hand. it fills a portion of his hollowness to see his best friend at peace, so he leaves him alone to whisper to the night sky. the next morning, Karl is nowhere to be found.

After a week of continuous searching, he finds a clue. or rather, the clue finds him. the spruce needles rustle in the dark with some sort of unseen presence. 

"Hello, little one" a sultry voice croons, a voice that pierces his heart to it's core. it's the voice of his Lord, twisted and distorted somehow. 

"I've missed you."

somehow, it doesn't fill up the hole in Tom like it would have before. He needs to find Karl anyway, so they can show the lord the life they've built for themselves. he will be proud of them, but first he needs to find Karl.

"Milord," he kneels, "it's an honor to see you again." the voice chuckles.

"Rise," it whispers sweetly, "and follow me." the spruce rattles as an indication, and Tom goes to obey, but he stops. 

"I need to find Karl, my lord," he states, "I... The other agent. he's missing."

"You've given him a name?" the voice asks, bemused. 

"We both have one now," Tom admits, "It's nice to have a name, milord."

"Will you tell me yours?"

"Tom"

"hmm. fitting." the silence is deafening, the air is still and even the summer crickets are silent. The presence begins to recede through the trees, brushing aside branches and stepping on twigs. Tom chases after it.

"My Lord," he calls, "Do you have a name?" The trees fall silent as the invisible entity stops. 

"I used to," it finally says.

"May I know it?" Tom asks, emboldened. "It's not mine to tell," it replies, resuming it's journey. Tom follows. "When I find Karl, we could give you a new name?" he asks tentatively. The voice is silent for a time, "That would be nice."

+

He watches his charge, his agent, his  _ Tom _ , through the eyes of the darkness, watches as the darkness steals his voice and worms his way through Tom's defenses. His heart swells with pride when he hears questions, curiosity. things he discarded for the sake of balance, knowing they were the door to rebellion, to free will.

+

"Where are we going?" 

"To find Karl." 

"Okay!"

for some reason, Tom feels light when he thinks about finding Karl. It's no wonder really, this past week has been eerily quiet in the house at night. He misses their arguments about the smallest things, the silliest things. He will do anything to get Karl back.

+

The darkness knows this. It will take full advantage of Tom's innocence to extinguish the last of the Captains light. to break him. To make him its own.

+

Tom doesn't know where they are. they must have been walking for an hour, and he didn't know the area very well. he's sure Karl would be able to find his way home from here easily, and he regrets not bringing the map his best friend made for him. 

"We're here," the voice says softly from behind and Tom knows this isn't his lord and he  _ jumps _ . the iron sword thunks in the spot where he had just been, dust clouding up into the air only to be sliced through by the invisible opponent. 

+

He wrestles for control with all his might. Tom has  _ just _ learned freedom,  _ just _ tasted true friendship,  _ just _ became his own entity, with thoughts and feelings and opinions and not just a mindless lifeless drone and he  _ pulls _ . and for a split second, he has it. 

"run," he gets out, before the darkness has him again and drags him down and locks him away in a corner of his own mind, which he immediately sets to work at getting out of. he's had months of practice.  _ for Tom, _ he thinks.

+

"Run." for a moment, his lord's voice is not distorted or twisted. it's clear and steady, and it fills Tom with hope. He sees a flicker of movement nearby and draws his own sword, shining blue with precious diamond and shimmering with enchantments Karl poured his heart and soul into.

"I'm sorry my Lord, but I can't leave without Karl."

"Then," the Lord flickers into visibility, a vibrant magenta cloaking him, twisted voice overlapping with an animalistic growl, "You shall not leave at all."

with a roar, his Lord lunges. Tom sidesteps it, his practice with the pillagers aiding him as he dodges the blows. 

"Tell me!" he shouts as he parries a blow meant for his leg, "Where is Karl?" The eyes of his Lord shine dead black, like obsidian. his expression becomes sinister.

"Karl followed me when I asked," he says, slashing closer than comfortable, "always the obedient one. always the loyal one." his lord aims a sloppy slash at Tom's neck, which he parries. The Lord leans in close.

"Never a disappointment." Tom is still. shell-shocked. The lord lazily stabs at his arm but he deflects it automatically. 

"Does it hurt?" the thief with his lord's face and voice and body asks, "That's what he thought of you, you know. before you were his."

+

he's free. he takes the split second of distraction Tom gives the darkness and uses it to his fullest advantage, regaining control and locking the darkness away in a crude makeshift prison and he knows he doesn't have much time. he looks Tom in the eyes and speaks with urgency. 

"Karl is in the nether realm," he hisses, "The Darkness has him locked away deep within my temple, you know the place. He will be safe." he takes a deep breath as pain builds behind his eyes,

+

he can almost feel the darkness crawl across his sclera. 

"I'm proud of you, Tom. give me a good name." and he's gone again, exhausted. He doesn't have the strength to resist this time as the darkness restrains his consciousness with authority and skill, testing every bond twice. 

"You will not escape me again," it murmurs to him, tracing his jawline, "a valiant effort, little hero. but you outlived those days a long time ago."

+

the Lord's eyes clear and for a minute it's  _ his _ Lord again, the one he knows. the one Tom would follow to the ends of the Earth and then some. 

“he's proud of me.”

and then he runs and he doesn't look back. Tom trusts his Lord, but he gets a vague feeling he’s done this before.

the nether calls to him in a way that is familiar, and he follows it home. Tom stands before the nether portal, decked out in his best lightweight leather armor. he considered taking his iron set, but somehow he knew he wouldn't need it. Tom steps across the threshold and lets the swirling energy take him away. take him closer to Karl. 

The temple looms over Tom like a lover he had forgotten the birthday of, there is something he desperately needs to remember, but cannot for the life of him. Tom just wants to take his friend home, where they can live happily. perhaps even their lord could live with them, but he smacks himself for being too prideful. indeed, what has he to offer?

his first priority is Karl. the Lord, while caring, often neglected them, using his time to instead mull over the state of the lands and maintain his little lady. 

“you know where to go,” he had said, and Tom did know. or at least, have a vague idea.

he navigates the maze of passages and netherbrick halls expertly. Though Tom has never been this deep in the temple before, he knows this place. he feels safe. Tom doesn't want to leave.

he finds Karl. he is sitting with crossed legs in the center of his prison, which isn't a prison so much as it is a room. his back is ramrod straight, and his gaze is empty. Tom guides him home with a steady hand, noting how much lighter he was now and watching as the light comes back to his eyes the closer they get to the portal. the veins that lace Karl's sclera are black, but Tom is too excited to care.

suddenly Karl's sword is against Tom's neck and he’s crying tears of blood mixed with something thicker, darker,  _ tainted _ with the taste of rotten flesh and pufferfish. 

“Ah, the  _ disappointment _ , we meet again,” 

Karl's voice echoes around the room, layered under and twisted in a way he  _ remembers _ . Tom draws his sword. 

“Relax,” the thief, the  _ Darkness, _ says offhandedly, “I have no interest in this vessel. what I want is  _ you. _ ” 

Tom's sword tip drops an inch. 

“You,” it purrs on, “the creature he has known the longest. the one he has known through all his lives here. the one he would not hesitate to come to the aid of.” 

ash clings to Tom's sword blade where it hit the earth, he backs away. the creature wearing his best friends skin takes the chance and pins Tom up by his neck against the netherrack. he feels the crags of sharp and brittle through his clothes as he gasps for breath. 

“Go on,” it rumbles sweetly, “call him.”

Tom calls him. he calls for help. he calls him like an equal, calls him like an ally. calls him like a friend. 

and Tom calls him by his name.

“Jordan!”

+

he is free. he has lots of practice escaping his own mind, repressing the sliver of Darkness still embedded in his consciousness and taking control of his own body again. the unfamiliar pangs of hunger remind just how  _ human _ he is now, with all his hoarded power spent protecting him.

the darkness doesn't care too much for its vessels.

a surge of strength flows into him, igniting his veins, the slightest whisper of a voice brushing against his ear, invoking something ancient and powerful within him. a desperate prayer from a follower, from a friend.

Tom. 

+

when Jordan arrives, he is radiant. his skin glows and his hair floats, unhindered by gravity and manipulated by the heat of the fires around him. he is light, and he shines. a thick black smoke rises off of Karl, and his grip goes slack. Tom collapses to the ground, taking deep breaths and choking on ash. Karl lands beside him, unmoving. 

the fight is short, but it feels so long. Tom watches helplessly as the darkness envelops his lord, his  _ friend _ , snuffing out the brilliance in a shroud of smothering black, the only light being that of the eternal fire that burns around them in the netherrack. the silence is suffocating, and its all Tom can do not to pick up his sword and slice through it. a beam of light spears through the darkness, onward and outward toward freedom. 

a blinding flash, the darkness is gone. Jordan is not. Tom scrambles over loose gravel to where he rests, dragging Karl's still form with him. he clasps one of Jordan's hands in his own, feeling for some kind of motion or a pulse or some sign that he's  _ alive _ and that he won't leave them alone again. won't leave  _ him _ alone.

Karl coughs beside him and Tom nearly cries with relief. Jordan opens his eyes and for a split second they blaze with a blinding light and then they fade out. Tom hugs them both close.

“let's go home,” he whispers, and they do.

+

it takes weeks for them to heal, and Tom takes good care of them. he feeds them and tends the farm, only taking days off to adventure when he feels they're stable enough.

today is one of those days. which means Karl is most likely out on a walk and he has to change his bandages himself. he hisses as he peels off the layers of gauze, exposing the burns sprawled across his shoulders, shaped like rays of light originating from his neck that reach down and wrap around his forearms. 

he applies the healing potion, sighing as the cool liquid soothes the sting. he picks up the clean bandages Tom left for him this morning, rewrapping the wounds, feeling the pleasant tingle of the potion doing it's work.

Tom strokes his hair, playing with the strands. Karl is next to him, leaning on his shoulder and watching the dying light of the fire. he feels whole, complete. theres just one thing missing, and even then he's not sure it's really missing.

“Jordan,” Tom says, and Karl mumbles a vague agreement. his heart flutters in his chest.

“Say it again?” 

his name falls from their lips and it feels good. it feels right.

**Author's Note:**

> completely unedited but I needed this out of my system.


End file.
